The Mineshaft Aftermath
by Kedi
Summary: Emma, Archie and Henry deals with nightmares in the wake of the mineshaft incident. A coda to 1x05: That Still Small Voice.


**The Mineshaft Aftermath**

by Kedi

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**Disclaimer: **I do not own Once Upon a Time, nor any of the OUAT characters - all I own is my imagination (and soon the first season DVD! YAY!) No copyright infringement is intended, and I'm making no money whatsoever. (So please don't sue. I'm still a student, I have nooothing.)

**Author's note: **Big thanks to the lovely Shahrezad1 for beta and encouragement. :D

**Rating: T **to be safe

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At about two in the morning Emma Swan, the brand new deputy sheriff of Storybrooke, Maine, found herself on the porch of Dr. Archibald Hopper's house. The drive over and the chill night air had done much to dispel the nightmare that had woken her less than an hour before, leaving only a few lingering images and the ominous feeling of dread slowly evaporating.

She felt silly. It was the middle of the night, and there she was, about to wake a man she barely knew just to make sure he was all right - which he no doubt was, why wouldn't he be? – all because of a nightmare. _'Hey, Archie, sorry to wake you, just wanted to see for myself – again – that you didn't fall down that elevator shaft. And I see you didn't. Great! Good night!' _Yeah, that would go well. Rationally Emma knew he hadn't fallen, but the nightmare had introduced a tiny little grain of doubt and as silly as she knew it was she just needed to be absolutely sure... She raised her hand and let it hover over the bell. '_No, Emma',_ she mentally scolded herself._ 'Come on, you're acting crazy. It was just a nightmare. Let the poor guy sleep.'_

Her hand fell to her side again, but she couldn't quite get her feet to move. The nightmare had been so vivid... Real memories had blurred the lines between what had actually happened and the scenario her brain had concocted, making it almost impossible to differentiate dream from reality. The look of fear on Archie's face, the resigned smile he had given her at her apology...

_"Archie, I'm so sorry!"_

_"It's all right!"_

... his startled gasp as the elevator plummeted, Emma and Henry crying his name as the darkness swallowed him... the dull crash after long, long seconds... the terrible knowledge that no one could possibly survive a fall like that. At that point she had jerked awake, drenched in cold sweat, heart pounding like a sledgehammer in her chest and breath hitching in her throat. Still now, almost an hour later she felt unsettled and jittery. The shiver rippling across her was not entirely due to the chill night air.

But it was still just a nightmare.

Her feet finally seemed to get the message from her brain to move and slowly, hesitantly Emma made her way back down the front steps. However, a loud bark from behind the closed door stopped her again, and with a relieved sigh she returned to the door just as it opened to reveal a haggard-looking Archie Hopper.

"Deputy Swan?" He smiled at her, but it fell flat. He looked exhausted. The wound on his forehead looked even angrier than she remembered, the bruising really starting to bloom, but she could tell it had at least been cleaned. He was clad in pyjamas, dressing gown and slippers, and his hair was slightly tousled, but his eyes were alert behind his glasses. She could tell he had not been sleeping. He frowned in worry as he took in her dishevelled appearance.

"Is something the matter? Is Henry -"

Belatedly realising what it must look like to him seeing her on his doorstep in the middle of the night, probably looking about as haggard as he was, Emma hurriedly assured him: "Henry's fine," and she could see him visibly relax. "I mean, as far as I know he's still fine." She hadn't meant the last bit to sound quite as bitter as it did, but Archie chuckled humourlessly.

"Ah, yes, I saw how Madam Mayor showed her 'gratitude' after you saved us from the mine." Emma was surprised at the sharp edge in his voice, but he seemed to mentally shake himself out of it, and when he spoke again his voice was the same soft, kind voice she had already gotten used to. "Won't you come in?"

"Oh, no, I didn't come here for... " _For what?_ She should have stayed in bed.

"I promise I won't analyse you," he chuckled, just like he had after joking about the free diagnosis the first time she'd gone to his office. "Please," he said as she hesitated. "We can of course do this here on the doorstep, but I think we'd both be more comfortable inside."

He opened the door wide and moved to let her pass. With only a moment of hesitation she stepped inside.

"I'm afraid I don't have much to offer in the way of refreshments," he said apologetically as he led her into the living room. "Tea? Coffee? No, I guess it's too late for coffee... Um, juice? Hot chocolate?"

"Hot chocolate would be great, thanks." And Emma realised she meant it.

"Hot chocolate it is, then! I'll just be a moment. Please, make yourself comfortable."

Emma looked around the living room as she heard Archie putter about in the kitchen. It wasn't big, but it wasn't cramped either. It was cosy, Emma decided. Where Mary Margaret's apartment was shabby chic, quaint and rustic with lots of white, Dr. Hopper's home was cosy and welcoming, decorated in late summer and fall colours – burnt orange, rusty red and brown, a few green plants here and there. The bookshelves were filled with medical journals and fiction novels alike, in a strange sort of system that didn't immediately reveal itself to her. A large desk stood in the corner facing the large windows, cluttered, but in a way that spoke of order. The windows were large, no doubt letting in plenty of natural sunlight during the day, and a glass door led out onto a porch and a small, but, from what she could see in the dark of the night, well-kept garden. It was fenced in, no doubt to give Pongo the chance to roam free a little bit. There was even a porch swing, with a thick blanket haphazardly thrown over the back of it. On closer inspection she realised the glass door was ever so slightly ajar – Archie must have been sitting out there when Pongo alerted him to Emma's arrival. She opened the door and stepped out on the porch. The night air felt colder after the warmth of the living room and she absentmindedly hoped the blanket was wool as she hugged herself. What could he possibly have been doing out here in the middle of the night?

"I like to sit out here, now and then, and watch the stars."

Emma jumped, not having heard him come up behind her. He smiled in apology and handed her a steaming cup of hot chocolate, keeping what looked like a cup of tea for himself. "And I don't know if Henry's right about there never having been crickets in Storybrooke before, or if I've just become aware of them now because he pointed them out... but they sure sing beautifully tonight." He looked out into the dark garden with a slightly wistful, tired smile and Emma realised that he was right. The cricket song was even louder here than it had been at the mine. She glanced at the good doctor out of the corner of her eye, thinking about Henry's insistence that he was in fact Jiminy Cricket. A stray thought wondered if the song in some way reminded him of what he'd supposedly forgotten, but the first sip of the hot chocolate brought her mind back to the present. Archie chuckled at her raised eyebrows and surprised smile.

"I take it I hit the bull's eye with the cinnamon, huh?"

"Yeah, how d'you know?"

"Henry talks about you quite a bit, Deputy Swan. That you like cinnamon on hot chocolate, just like him, is something he has mentioned more than once. The fact that apparently Miss Blanchard does as well is to him yet more proof that you're three generations of the same family." They shared a smile at that, but both quickly sobered.

"Now," Archie said, motioning Emma to step back into the living room and closing the door behind them. "What's on your mind?"

Emma sat down in the chair as Archie took a seat on the couch across from her. She was relieved to have the table between them – it made her feel slightly less like she was his patient. She didn't like head meddlers. They made her feel on edge. She had had too many encounters with them when she was in the system. But unlike the therapists she had had to deal with then, Archie seemed to actually pick up on her unease, and not automatically assume she was being difficult on purpose.

"Like I said," he reassured her, "I promise not to analyse you. Just think of me as a friendly ear."

"So you're saying we're friends?" Emma wanted to kick herself as the question came out much sharper than she intended. A flash of something that could have been hurt or disappointment disappeared behind his professional mask before she had the chance to properly identify it.

"Only if you want us to be," he said. His voice was still calm and warm, but somehow it didn't sound at all like it had when they talked about the cinnamon and the hot chocolate. It was as if there was a distinct distance in it now.

"I do, I do!" She wanted to reach out and give his hand a squeeze, but she felt out of her depth as it was so she kept her hands on the cup and tried to give him a reassuring smile instead. She was pretty sure she failed miserably. "I'm so sorry, that came out completely wrong! I do want us to be friends. I do." She thought she saw the distance lessen, ever so slightly. "I mean, Operation: Cobra's gotta stick together, right?"

"Right." It was a small smile, but it was a smile, and Emma felt hope that her blunder could be overcome. Not wanting to dwell on the awkwardness she decided to plunge right into it. She owed him at least that much, seeing as she had showed up on his doorstep in the middle of the night and then proceeded to snap at him for trying to help her.

"I'm here because I – I had a nightmare and I just wanted to make sure you were all right." Her cheeks burned with embarrassment, and she couldn't quite meet his gaze, instead rolling her eyes and letting out a self-deprecating laugh. "It's ridiculous, I know, and I'm sorry for disturbing you so late. I'll – You know what, I'll just go, I'm sorry." She moved to get up, but he held out his hand to stop her.

"It's not ridiculous, and I don't mind you coming to see me. As you have no doubt already gathered, Deputy Swan, I was not asleep, so no harm done."

"Emma."

"Sorry?"

"We're friends, right? Call me Emma."

This time his smile was genuine as he obediently repeated her given name, and Emma couldn't help but return the smile.

"It must have been quite a nightmare," he said as she sat back down, understanding colouring his words. Emma grimaced and took another sip of her hot chocolate, but the warm liquid couldn't completely dispel the chill that rippled across her as _'It's gonna fall!' _echoed in her mind.

"Yeah," she said. "I – well, you ..." She took a deep breath to steady her slightly shaking voice. "I had a hold on Henry, but you – you didn't have your umbrella with you," she said softly in explanation.

"Ah," he nodded. He was looking at the cup in his hands, but she could tell his mind was not on the tea. The silence stretched for several seconds.

"So..." The sound of Emma's voice made him look up at her. "Why aren't you asleep?"

His chuckle was devoid of humour. "I'm sure you know the answer to that, Emma. At least in your dream you got Henry out in time."

The silence fell between them again, but this time it felt more understanding and comfortable; Archie drinking his tea and Emma drinking her hot chocolate, both lost in their own thoughts.

But then the clicking of paws over the hardwood floor made them both look up as Pongo hurried out into the hall. The sound of a clumsy key in the lock and Pongo's happy bark made Archie put down his cup and rise. Emma looked at him in confusion, but he didn't seem all that surprised as he followed his dog out of sight without a word. Then she heard him talking softly to someone, and a light, muffled reply, and she couldn't contain her curiosity any longer. Quickly and silently she moved from her seat to peer around the corner towards the front door.

There stood her son, face hidden in Archie's dressing gown as he clung on as if for dear life. His shoulders were jumping with silent sobs, and she could hear the occasional sniff as he was babbling and crying in the embrace of his shrink. _No,_ Emma thought as Archie gently disentangled himself from Henry's embrace and knelt in front of him, bringing the two of them to the same eye-level, _not just his shrink_. Archie spoke so softly that Emma couldn't make out what he was saying, but between hiccups and sniffs she thought she heard her son say something about "against me", "crazy", "falling" and "darkness", and a choked "couldn't save you" that almost broke her heart. Apparently both Emma and Henry were there on the same errand. Archie pulled Henry into a proper hug, whispering what Emma guessed was soothing nonsense in his ear as the little boy continued to cry.

With a warm, yet painful tug at her heart Emma realised that Archie was the closest thing Henry had to a father. From what she had seen Archie was the only male role model in Henry's life worth speaking of. Graham was another, but she knew the sheriff and Henry were not all that close – in Henry's own words Graham was "need to know"; Archie "knew everything". Archie was not just Henry's psychiatrist; he was his confidante, his ally, his _friend_. Emma remembered the "well, duh"-face Henry had given Archie when the latter pointed out that he had not realised that he was a member of Operation: Cobra. Archie's inclusion had been so matter of course that Henry had forgotten to actually _tell_ him outright that he was in the club. That's not the way you would think about just anyone. And though for a while Emma had doubted Archie she now knew with bone-deep certainty that he cared deeply for her son. He had really pulled through for Henry, if the shocked expression on Regina Mills face after their little "talk" was anything to go by. Emma had tried to surreptitiously listen in on the conversation between the mayor and the psychiatrist, a childish need to spite the bitch who had snatched her son from her arms as soon as they had cleared the elevator shaft, but Archie was not the kind of person to raise his voice in anger. The only thing Emma had heard clearly had been "Or what? You'll ruin my life? You'll do your worst?" which had been more than enough for her to know that the man Henry was convinced was Jiminy Cricket had reclaimed his conscience. And his spine. And in Emma's book this more than made up for his earlier lapse in judgement.

So not only had Archie risked his own life to go after Henry into the mine, and then confronted the mayor afterwards despite what Emma was sure had been dire threats to himself, he had also apparently at some point given the boy a key to his house or at least told him where he could find it, showing Henry that he was there for him, night or day, should he ever need him. That too was not something you would do for just anyone. Smiling to herself Emma quietly retreated to the living room, giving the two some privacy.

When Archie led a red-eyed Henry into the living room a while later Emma was just finishing her hot chocolate. Emma had never been what she termed a "touchy feely" kind of person, but the sight of Henry's tear streaked face made her body move without her conscious say-so and she rose and opened her arms towards him. With only a fraction of a second's surprised hesitation Henry hurried over and jumped into her embrace. She hugged him like she had never hugged anyone ever before: There was fear in that hug, a need to know he was safe and whole, and there was heart-felt empathy and a sense of camaraderie, knowing that terrible nightmares were the reason both of them had come. But most of all there was love. Her heart felt like it would burst with how much she loved the ten year old boy in her arms. Emma looked up at Archie over the head of her son – her _son!_ Nothing in her life had ever felt as right as having Henry in her arms – and he smiled knowingly. Reaching down he picked up her empty cup as well as his own half-full one, and quietly made his way to the kitchen as Emma moved herself and Henry to sit down on the couch.

Emma didn't know how long she sat on Archie's couch, embracing her son, rocking him gently and rubbing circles on his back. She didn't bother with the whispered nonsense because it really would be nonsense if she tried, and she had already moved way out her usual comfort zone. She'd leave the smooth talking to Archie. When he returned from loitering in the kitchen – Emma wanted to thank him for spending a ridiculous amount of time tidying up those two cups, but couldn't quite find her voice – Henry was much calmer. In fact he looked half asleep. A glance at the carved wooden clock on the wall made Emma's eyes widen in surprise before meeting Archie's amused ones. She opened her mouth to say something – she didn't quite know what it was, maybe that they should get Henry home, but she really didn't want to let him go – but Archie held up a hand to silence her. Nodding towards Henry, whose eyes were drooping and whose smile was only broken by a huge yawn, he gestured for her to lie down on the couch. Emma obeyed, and her breath hitched slightly as Henry snuggled up close. She couldn't quite tear her eyes away from the already sleeping form, feeling something akin to wonder at the sight and feel of her son in her arms. A slight weight startled her slightly, and she smiled again as Archie gently put a blanket over the two of them. He leaned down and gently ruffled Henry's hair before meeting Emma's eyes.

"Get some sleep," he whispered. "I'll wake you in a few hours so we can get him back before Regina notices he's gone."

Emma gave him a teary smile that she hoped conveyed at least half of the gratitude and happiness she felt. He seemed to get it, and she thought he looked considerably less haunted than he did when she showed up at his doorstep. He nodded goodnight and turned off the light as he left the living room. She heard him walk upstairs with Pongo at his heels. Hopefully he would get some sleep too. Closing her eyes she marvelled at how it all had come together after all. She had been so ... lost, so frightened. He had been too, she could tell. And Henry. Three lost souls, connected, healed.

Emma closed her eyes and breathed in the smell of her son and the faint smell of Archie's cologne on the blanket, revelling in the bone-deep knowledge that both Henry and Archie were safe and sound. She couldn't remember ever being so content. There would be no more nightmares that night.


End file.
